Umbrella Conspiracy
by Soul Reaver
Summary: Bravo Team: ten new members added onto the GIJoe team from all around the world face COBRA as it gets its hands on Umbrella biowarfare technology. Resident Evil and GI Joe crossover...


Basic Training  
  
Disclaimer: I own neither the Resident Evil nor GI Joe franchises. If anyone has codename suggestions for the characters, throw them in any time...  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Fall in!" came the command shout of a young man, barely twenty four, wearing woodland patterned cammies. On his shoulder was visible the Ranger tab and scroll, and his hair was cut in the standard Ranger buzz cut.  
  
Before him were the nine other men and women of a team of recruited personnel from the civilian and military sectors recruited for the elite military unit known as GI Joe. They hailed from many different corners of the world, Israel, South Africa, and France among them. There was even a fat guy wearing a white ninja getup, claiming he was the Great White Ninja of some obscure Japanese clan.  
  
"These are our new team members?" Flint asked Duke, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"That's them." Duke replied, "I call them the Rogue Team."  
  
"I call them the disaster team. A fat ninja wannabe, an ex-cat burglar, a young genius, a survivalist among them, sounds like a recipe for disaster." Flint replied, "I mean they're a mixed group of soldiers from disparate backgrounds, thrown together like a dirty dozen, shy of two. What makes you think they'll survive combat?"  
  
"They've gotta survive Beach Head first." Duke grinned, nastily.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"That facial hair ain't regulation, soldier..." Beach Head began, talking to one recruit with a beard.  
  
"I ain't a soldier, bub." The man replied.  
  
"You are now, name and rank..."  
  
"Alan Burke, PFC. Private Fuckin' Civilian, suh." Burke replied imitating Beach Head's accent.  
  
"OK, wise guy, whatever skill they recruited you for from the civilian sector for don't mean shit unless I let you in..." Beach Head replied, "And what skill did they recruit you for, by the way, numb nuts."  
  
Burke grinned a yellow toothed grin as he pushed a button in a small device hidden in his palm. A nearby unmanned guard tower fell down after a loud bang took out the support struts.  
  
Unflinching Beach Head said, "Drop and give me fifty Burke..."  
  
Burke languidly dropped into the up position for pushups and started cranking them out with Beach Head putting a boot between his shoulders.  
  
"Just to let you cub scouts know, I don't tolerate mouths in this unit." Beach Head began.  
  
Rebecca Chambers winced inadvertently, of all their team members she was the least militarily experienced, though she had survived the takedown of Umbrella six years ago, she still wasn't a soldier by any stretch of the imagination.  
  
"And you, girl scout, what did they recruit you for?" Beach Head sneered as Burke's arms gave out at thirty seven pushups.  
  
"I'm a p-paramedic..." Chambers began.  
  
"That's I'm a paramedic, sir. Grow a pair." Beach Head began, "Mouse. The rest of you all have an hour to square your gear away and muster in the briefing room..."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"So what's this new unit all about?" D'Artagnan, a member of the French Special Forces, asked.  
  
"It's a counter terrorist task force of some kind, I believe." Staff Sergeant Gustafson said, "It started back in the '80s against some kinda weird terrorist organization called COBRA..."  
  
"Sounds like a cycle gang." Nace Bilby quipped. He was a South African, with sandy brown hair, grown a bit longish from being out in the wilds from a long range patrol.  
  
"What it sounds like is not important." Haru said, "For even the seemingly insignificant can be deadly, as Master Fujiwara once said."  
  
"Whatever." Burke said, "As a wise philosopher I knew once said, 'Nobody runs faster than Mr. H&K...' That was before I stockpiled a shit ton of guns and ammo and waited for the big boom of Y2K..."  
  
"Nothing happened in the year 2000, the computers didn't crash and the world's fine..." Rebecca replied.  
  
"Yeah, but for how long. Y'know, kid the only thing you can really rely on is yourself and your weapons..." Burke began.  
  
"Hah, only a fool relies upon a weapon..." Haru said.  
  
"Says you with the big swords strapped to your back." D'Artagnan quipped, brushing dust off his desert camouflaged brown uniform jacket with the French Tricolour sewn onto the right shoulder.  
  
"I may take care that I have my weapons, but I need them not..." Haru said, "A ninja needs no weapon to be a silent and lethal force..."  
  
D'Artagnan laughed, "I'm sorry, mon ami, but you are not a ninja..."  
  
"A fool needs to boast his prowess in words, but a ninja need prove nothing to anyone." Haru replied, with a smile.  
  
"You are not even Japanese mon ami." D'Artagnan replied, referring to Haru's American ancestry, "And your ample gut precludes graceful movement."  
  
"And you are one to talk for France hasn't won in a war for well...ever." Burke remarked.  
  
"I would not repeat that statement monsieur, if I was you..." D'Artagnan replied.  
  
"Boys, boys, despite what you may think, we're not hear to kill each other. The enemy's outside, not in here." Jill gestured, unfortunately her gesture happened to point to Beach Head who just walked into the briefing room.  
  
"Is that so Valentine...I'm the enemy huh. Well that is correct, for the next six weeks, and until your probations are up, I am your worst enemy. I am the enemy. I am the terror..." Beach Head said.  
  
"That flaps in the night. I am Darkwing Duck." Demerest remarked. Andrew Demerest was an Israeli national, a member of the Israeli MAGAV (Border Guard) undercover counter terrorist team called Unit YAMAS. He was about thirty years old, with close cropped black hair and a deep sun tan, making him appear almost Arabic.  
  
"Valentine, drop and give me fifty. You too Demerest." Beach Head said, "Demerest you're already on my shit list and it isn't even the first day. Same with you Valentine."  
  
The pair finished their pushups and Beach Head said, "Recover. You two may be shit list but you can at least PT. Unlike some people. Well it looks like you people are spared a bit of torture for now."  
  
"Room atten-hut!" Tucker called.  
  
"Mr. Tucker, you'd better maintain control over this unit. If you fail to do so, high holy hell will descend upon you." Beach Head began, "I expect that from a man in my beloved Rangers and whose family served two generations in my beloved Regiment."  
  
"Hooah." The lieutenant replied.  
  
In stepped General Hawk, beside him were Flint and Duke, with Sergeant Slaughter and Beach Head standing off to one side. "At ease ladies and gentlemen. As you all know the purpose of this unit is counter terrorism. Now I know all of you are accomplished members of your respective units, your interviewers all spoke very highly of you. The purpose of these six weeks isn't to break you down and build you up; this is to make sure you are playing on the same sheet of music we are playing on. Now this isn't gonna be a walk in the park either. This will test you physically and mentally as well as emotionally and at the end of six weeks I expect to see all of you standing here. Just looking at the list I'm impressed. We have one man who survived being lost in the jungle for one hundred and fifty six days, after being swept downstream in a river and presumed lost in French Guiana. We have another who's served nine years in the service of the state of Israel with the undercover counter terrorism units. We have an expert lock breaker and urban survival expert, a medical prodigy, and a skilled rescue pilot among our group. In short, I expect every last one of you to be sitting here at the end of the six weeks. Beach Head, Sergeant Slaughter, they're all yours."  
  
"All right recruits." Sergeant Slaughter began, "Break for chow and be formed up outside the barracks no sooner than 0445 for PT...It'll be challenging."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Hey," Jill Valentine asked Demerest as she took a seat with him and Rebecca Chambers, "I was wondering if you remember me? Jill Valentine, from Manston High School."  
  
"Andrew Demerest, but my friends call me Andy."  
  
"I do remember you, a little. You were always arguing history, philosophy and religion with Mr. Saunders every afternoon." Jill replied, "But after high school you just disappeared."  
  
"I went to join the Israeli Army." Andrew replied, "After all, I am an Israeli national, and as a citizen it is my duty to the body politic to serve her."  
  
"But the mandatory service contract is three years." Jill asked, "You've served for nine years."  
  
"And what of you?" Andrew replied, "I'd heard your father was arrested..."  
  
"For breaking and entry." Jill replied, "Yeah, that rumor you heard about me being the daughter of a master thief is true..."  
  
"I never heard that rumor." Andrew replied.  
  
"Really, I thought the whole school knew?" Jill replied.  
  
"Well count someone who didn't here..." Andrew replied.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
0445, next day: "Get that fat butt of your over that bar, Ninjaboy..." Sgt. Slaughter said.  
  
"No matter, all the more rest for me..." D'Artagnan said under his breath.  
  
Sergeant Slaughter spun faster than a tornado and faced D'Artagnan, "Got something smart to say Frenchie, I say you join Ninjaboy on that bar. Move it!"  
  
"Yes sir." D'Artagnan replied.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Later: "Sorry for the fat joke, mon ami..." D'Artagnan said.  
  
"It is alright, soldier of France." Haru replied. Both men were now in the down position on the pull up bar, and each carried a sixty pound pack on their backs, "I am one with the universe. I am one with the universe..."  
  
"I'll tell you one thing I'll do at the end of this mon ami, I'm gonna kill Sergeant Slaughter." D'Artagnan said.  
  
"I'll help you, but first...I am one with the universe, I am one with the universe...."  
  
"I have no idea what you two are complaining about." Burke said, "I'm getting old, people my age don't do stuff like this, usually..."  
  
"I'd love to trade places with you." D'Artagnan said, Burke was in the up position for pushups with a sixty pound rucksack on his back.  
  
"Burke, D'Artagnan, switch places..." Sergeant Slaughter began, "Oh, and I'd love to see you try and kill me D'Artagnan, we've got hand to hand this afternoon..."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Much later: "Does anyone else feel like their dead..." Rebecca Chambers asked.  
  
"Uncle." Lt. "Smoothie" Van Deever, the team pilot, said.  
  
"Add the aunt too, mon ami (my friend)." D'Artagnan groaned, he had bruises all over from trying to fight Sergeant Slaughter in hand to hand.  
  
The recruits shuffled off to their individual two man rooms and fell asleep only to be awakened less than three hours later for a night time obstacle course run.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Push! C'mon!" Tucker shouted as he helped shove a heavy rubber boat with Sergeant Slaughter lying inside it over the obstacle course.  
  
"Watch that line! Watch that line!" Smoothie shouted at Haru and D'Artagnan who were manning the bow lines of the 400 lb. Zodiac made that much heavier by Sergeant Slaughter and about a hundred pounds of his personal gear.  
  
The sergeant's instructions were to ferry him peacefully inside the rubber raft through that obstacle course while staying together. It required the utmost of teamwork to move the raft anywhere.  
  
"Watch out!"  
  
"Ouch! That was my foot moron!"  
  
"Look out! He's gonna fall!"  
  
CRASH! Sergeant Slaughter and the raft's contents were spread out upon the ground. Sergeant Slaughter got up, dusted himself off, and with a slowly spreading smile said, "You recruits owe me..."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"C'mon fatass pick up the pace!" Burke shouted at Haru.  
  
"Shut up Burke, you're not exactly leaping like a gazelle yourself." Jill remarked.  
  
"Wait, slow down! Something's wrong with Chambers!" Bilby shouted.  
  
"On me! On me!" Tucker shouted. "Get her gear. Bilby prop her up on your pack."  
  
As he spoke Tucker pulled a canteen from his web gear and sat her up. "Dehydration and heatstroke." Bilby said, he had cross trained as a medic with the South African Special Forces recently, "Pass me some of that rehydrate powder, will you mate?"  
  
"What's that?" Burke asked.  
  
"The iced tea or lemonade mixes you're carrying on you. They contain electrolytes that are helpful for water retention." Bilby replied. Burke complied, handing over a lemonade mix.  
  
"Loosen her shirt a bit, let her get ventilated." Tucker said.  
  
"I'll take care of that." Jill replied, helping her former STARS (Special Tactics and Rescue Squad) teammate.  
  
"I say we leave 'em with some water and supplies and finish the run." Burke said.  
  
"Absolutely not." Tucker said, "Slaughter said we finish this march together. And that means all of us."  
  
"Chambers could be down for the count. Just call in the medics and get our asses back in gear. I really don't wanna wind up going through that O- course again." Burke complained.  
  
"Who's the weakling now?" Haru asked, "One who abandons others to the wilds is no strong man, Master Hikaru used to say."  
  
"Oh shut up with your cockamany Oriental martial arts bullshit." Burke remarked.  
  
"Burke, shut up." Gustafson said. He was an Air Force Staff Sergeant, a parajumper, a search and rescue specialist. He had been helping motivate Haru and thus was a bit late catching up.  
  
"I can make it guys, I'll be fine." Chambers said.  
  
"Are you sure?" Tucker said, "Gustafson?"  
  
"She should hold out. But put her in the front and set the pace. We can't run any faster than she can." Gustafson said.  
  
"Great. Sarge will pile on the punishment..." Burke growled.  
  
"Burke, go back to your cabin in the boondockers and sulk if you want to be a jerk." D'Artagnan replied.  
  
"Shut your trap Frenchie..."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
In the distance Flint could hear the arguing from his jeep. "Do you think they'll finish?" he asked Duke.  
  
"It'll be amazing if they do. Sarge's round the world forced marches rarely are finished by first timers with full squads." Duke replied, "That Tucker kid seems to have a good head on his shoulders, he's not letting the squad split for any reason."  
  
"Burke could use an attitude adjustment or two." Flint assessed.  
  
"That Chambers girl's got a good head on her shoulders." Duke said, "Smart as a tack, graduated college at eighteen, could use some help on the physical side."  
  
"Same as that Haru fellow." Flint replied.  
  
Quite some time later the recruits staggered in, Sergeant Slaughter let them head back to the barracks for some rest since their next evolution was the firing range.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Six weeks later: "They've started to come together as a team." Flint said.  
  
"Hell, even Burke's pulling his own weight. Takes a little prodding from his teammates, but he still does what has to be done." Duke said, "Though he does get carried away on the target range. He destroyed two tires on my jeep with aimed rifle fire and put a third round through the engine block before he realized his mistake."  
  
As they spoke the recruits were helping, 'wounded' teammates through the assault course as they wore full battle gear. Demerest had Jill Valentine over one shoulder with Tucker on point, his rifle at the ready. Haru was being carried on a stretcher by Burke and D'Artagnan, Smoothie was being carried by Gustafson and Bilby was bringing up the rear.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Congratulations ladies and gentlemen." General Hawk began, "You've done an incredible job. All ten of you made it through some of the most demanding selection training in the US Military. Despite being of different backgrounds, you pulled together and pulled each other through training. Step forward to receive your certificate."  
  
"Corporal Nace Bilby, South African Special Forces." Duke called out. A fellow standing 5'7" in a red beret and South African patterned desert fatigues. His sandy brown hair had been cut shorter, to military regulations, and his gray eyes still radiated a certain sad air to them.  
  
"Alan Burke." Duke called out the name. A fellow in his late thirties, with longish reddish brown hair and a trimmed beard walked forward. Standing about 5'10" he was now leaner and more muscular than he had been when he reported. He wore an H&K Firearms (Heckler and Koch) baseball cap, jeans, and an NRA t-shirt.  
  
"Rebecca Chambers, STARS." A woman, in her early twenties with short brown hair and eyes with a slight build and a nervous smile, stepped forward to receive her certificate.  
  
"Sergeant Armand D'Artagnan, French Special Forces." Duke called out. A compact French Army sergeant in his mid-twenties stepped forward. He had short, combed brown hair and eyes, desert fatigues with the French flag sewn onto one shoulder of his jacket. He walked forth to receive his certificate.  
  
"Andrew Demerest, Israeli Border Guard." Duke called out. Demerest shook hands with the General as the other two had done before him. His olive drab fatigues with the Israeli flag sewn on one shoulder were his best set, as were his reddish brown paratrooper boots. He stood 5'8" with close cropped black hair, suntanned skin, and small intense black eyes.  
  
"Staff Sergeant Wes Gustafson, United States Air Force." Duke called out. A compact, muscular black man standing 5'2" stepped forward. He wore the maroon beret of an Air Force parajumpers and standard issue woodland camouflage fatigues.  
  
"Haru." Duke called out. A chubby fellow in a white ninja getup with a sword strapped to his back walked forth. As he walked forward his team mates clapped and cheered. He and Chambers had the roughest time with basic training but they passed.  
  
"1st Lieutenant Solomon Tucker, US Army." Duke called out. The Ranger with the buzz cut and weightlifter's build stepped forward. His muscular arms were about to burst from the sleeves of his fatigue jacket with the Ranger tab and scroll sewn onto it.  
  
"Jill Valentine, STARS." Duke called out. A woman standing 5'8" with short brown hair and eyes, with a slim, athletic build stepped forward.  
  
"Lieutenant Abraham "Smoothie" Van Deever." Duke called. A lean six footer of a Navy Lieutenant of African American descent walked forward. He was one of the taller fellows in the unit and the gold wings of a Naval aviator gleamed upon his khakis.  
  
"Congratulations all of you." Hawk said, "Now starts your probationary period where we determine how you fit in on the team. Just keep up the good work, listen to the experienced team members but remember you can also contribute, and stay motivated. That's all I ask of you. Dismissed."  
  
The ten newest recruits of the GI Joe team fell out to enjoy some much needed R&R...  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
TBC 


End file.
